Thursday, December 14, 2023

Poetry Friday: Last Day of School in 2023

I shared Mark Doty's poem twice before on this blog, once in 2011 and once in 2014. It seems perfect for this last day of school until January. 


Messiah (Christmas Portions)
 
By Mark Doty
 
A little heat caught
in gleaming rags,
in shrouds of veil,
   torn and sun-shot swaddlings:

   over the Methodist roof,
two clouds propose a Zion
of their own, blazing
   (colors of tarnish on copper)

   against the steely close
of a coastal afternoon, December,
while under the steeple
   the Choral Society

   prepares to perform
Messiah, pouring, in their best
blacks and whites, onto the raked stage.
   Not steep, really,

   but from here,
the first pew, they’re a looming
cloudbank of familiar angels: 
 
 
 
 
Janice is hosting the roundup today. Head on over and see what everyone else is sharing!

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

I’m sitting in that stepped church waiting for those heavenly voices 😊 (Patricia)

Irene Latham said...

Perfect, Ruth! Enjoy your break. I hope you see lots of birds. xo

Janice Scully said...

I love how the music in the poem, from all these very human voices, together, create something ethereal, something greater. Thanks, Ruth, for sharing this! Happy Holidays!

Tracey Kiff-Judson said...

Wonderful ending ... still time to change. There is hope. :)

Linda B said...

Beautiful, Ruth, new to me! Thanks for its special message and have a good break! Merry Christmas!

laurasalas said...

Thank you, Ruth, and have a fabulous break! Merry Christmas!

Michelle Kogan said...

So appropriately titled— fun to hear all those voices—I love choral pieces and even more when you are there hearing them. Also enjoyed the sound of these closing lines, “it cascades, /in overlapping,/
lapidary waves of praise?” Though I would remove the question mark, thanks Ruth, and for your comment and link! Wishes for Merriest of Christmas to you and your family!

Susan T. said...

Love Mark Doty! Thank you for this.

Linda Mitchell said...

so many feet of clay making the season sacred. What a cool poem...so much an experience. Wonderful.